


A Taste of Nectar, of Ambrosia so Sweet

by LittleMissSweetgrass



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, mention of war and blood i guess, mins and megs are gay old and awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSweetgrass/pseuds/LittleMissSweetgrass
Summary: The air was sickly sweet with the fragrance of the flowers, cloying up his olfactory sensors so much that he could almost taste it. They smelt like freshly spilt energon, tricking his processor into seeing the countless battlefields he’s been a part of behind his optics.Tasting the warm, barely processed energon that would spatter across his dermas by a killing blow. A sweetness he once craved.





	A Taste of Nectar, of Ambrosia so Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> The Discord chat im in actually made me like Mini/Megs despite my dislike for any Megatron that isnt TFA
> 
> Wrote this while I was listening to "Epic III" from Hadestown, a very good shipping song for all your Megatron needs
> 
> I also tried a more "flowery" writing style than normal, just cause I think megs only thinks in grandiose prose, like hes about to give an shakespeare level monologue at any given moment 
> 
> As always this isn't Beta'd, so if you see any mistakes just let me know

Megatron stands in the flower field, surrounded on all sides by the soft, glowing, blue light the flower petals produce. He is standing by his statue, his legacy, his impact upon his people and their future- a crushing blow to his spark and pride. All these lives lost, all these futures, goals, and dreams, snuffed short because of his ambition. Because he never saw fit to stop his conquest. Lost in his own prideful madness. 

He dimmed his optic lights, greif racing up his spinal strut to strike at his spark like a cy-viper.

The air was sickly sweet with the fragrance of the flowers, cloying up his olfactory sensors so much that he could almost taste it. They smelt like freshly spilt energon, tricking his processor into seeing the countless battlefields he’s been a part of behind his optics. Tasting the warm, barely processed energon that would spatter across his dermas by a killing blow.

A sweetness he once craved.

“There you are, I was beginning to wonder where you wondered off too.” Megatron flickered his optics back on and glanced behind him, vents stuttering at the sight that graced his old optics.

Minimus Ambus was walking towards him. Though he had a minibot frame, he stood tall and proud, strutting towards the former warlord unafraid and knowing he had the grey mech’s full attention as he announced himself. The sun of this world glittered off his perfectly polished armour, the white paint looking pearlescent as it reflected the glow of the blue flowers around him. His green details contrasted beautifully.

Megatron felt his intake clench as his vents stalled. What beauty stood before him, gracing his audials with that sweetly accented voice. He felt the sudden need to sing praise of this small being before him, immortalize his voice, his frame, his devoted, cunning mind in verse and spread that prose throughout the known universe so all could see and understand what he saw.

He opened his mouth to reply, surly, but the mini caught his optics, and the royal red burned through Megatron’s entire being leaving him speechless. His muse held his gaze for a moment, a spark beat, before he looked away, down at the petals that were so close to his fingertips. Megatron’s momentous sin so close to staining those delicate green hands.

Minimus stopped a little ways from him- a respectful distance, a professional one. 

Megatron felt an urge to step forward and close that gap, professionality be damned. 

He kept himself away, separated by hundreds of the blue flowers, separated by millions of stolen lives. 

“Brianstorm says that the teleporter is almost ready to go, and Rodimus is gathering everyone who’s accompanying him for a, ahem, ‘debriefing.’” His voice was tight, as if the mere thought of whatever chaotic mess Rodimus claimed was a ‘debriefing’ gave him physical pain. But, there was an underlying playfulness, an airy teasing in his tone that hinted at the long hours after shift, where they sat together, doing paperwork, sharing poetry and music, and berating Rodimus’ poor attempts at administration like a secret joke shared only between themselves. Megatron shivered at that thought of that intimacy, knowing only he really was allowed to view Minimus in such situations.

“Both Ratchet and Drift are with him, I’m sure they’ll be able to reign in his attention span for long enough to stop him from making himself look too much of a fool in front of the crew.” Megatron rumbled, his crimson optics trailing the movement of Minimus’ hand as it reached down to brush against a few of the flowers. 

Did he know anyone who would be markered here? Surely the warlord has taken away someone close to the minibot in the span of several million years. With how vast this field was, with how many billions of lives he’s taken, he is sure that he must have. He wondered if those deaths were meaningful to him, or if he snuffed their sparks without a fleeting thought. The idea made him sick, knowing that he most likely had inadvertently devastated this wonderous mech before him without care. 

Minimus gave an amused snort, rubbing at the specks of spark energy that clung to his finger tips. “I’m afraid they are more likely to indulge our co-captain with his shenanigans than you hope. Ratchet mostly out of wanting to see Rodimus look like a fool than Drift’s devotion, but nonetheless, they both will let him continue on with whatever plan he has.” 

Megatron tilted his helm at the mini, agreeing with him. His optics glazed in the momentary lapse of silence, lost in the prose he was composing of how Minimus looked with the wind making the flowers dance at his pedes.

The minibot gave a quite growl of frustration as the specks refused to be rubbed off, bringing Megatron back to focus. “This dratted pollen! Stickier than the bartop at Swerve’s.” Minimus crinkled his olfactory sensor cutely in his ire, making Megatron smile.

Before he could think through the action, Megaton had already licked his thumb and brushing it over Minimus’ fingers. Once he realized what he had done, the mech froze, staring at the equally still hand he was cradling between his fingers.

Megatron was weak, he avoided looking at Minimus’ face and instead stuck his, now pollen coated, thumb in his mouth, turning away. “Well, ah, humm. That should have gotten the pollen off. I’ll, uh, meet you back at base. Can’t let Rodimus make a mess of our only chance at getting back home.” Heat rose up to his face with embarrassment. He stiffly turned around, about to start back when a light touch brushing against his hand stalled all movement.

He looked down, startled and flushed, to see Minimus with his own healthy dose of pink spread across his face. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would, ah, would like to accompany you back. No sense in us not walking together when our destination is the same.”

He felt glossa tied, and managed a firm, jerky nod. Minimus gave an awkward smile in return, and Megatron had to look away as his cheeks flushed even hotter at that. 

The light touch strengthen as Minimus loosely held two of his fingers- all he could fit- in his small hand. 

As they both headed back to the rest of their crew, Megatron couldn’t help but think about how sickly sweet the warm spark pollen tasted on his dermas.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on Tumblr @ Youareunbearable or Twitter @ LittleMissSweetG if you wanna talk about headcanons or remind me to update my shit <3


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